What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, 12-point type, etc.) there should be about 16 or 17 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page). Directions for submissions are below.

A word about the line-editing in these posts: it’s “one-pass” editing, and I don’t try to address everything, which is why I appreciate the comments from the FtQ tribe. In a paid edit, I go through each manuscript three times.

Storytelling Checklist

Before you rip into today’s submission, consider this list of 6 vital storytelling ingredients from my book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells. While it's not a requirement that all of these elements must be on the first page, they can be, and I think you have the best chance of hooking a reader if they are.

Evaluate the submission—and your own first page—in terms of whether or not it includes each of these ingredients, and how well it executes them. The one vital ingredient not listed is professional-caliber writing because that is a must for every page, a given.

Story questions

Tension (in the reader, not just the characters)

Voice

Clarity

Scene-setting

Character

Melissa has sent chapter 1 of her work in progress.

September, 1943

Where was that gosh-darn flag pin? Celia frantically
rummaged through her jewelry box, already fearing the disapproving stares and
outright disdain of everyone around the table tonight if she showed up without
it. Wouldn’t that be a great way to start off the board meeting!

“Don’t panic, don’t panic,” Celia chanted, screwing in her
pearl earrings as she hurried downstairs. Surely the exciting news she had to
share with them would override any questions about her patriotism. But that was
wishful thinking. They’d zero in on her missing accessory like a Spitfire on a
Messerschmitt.

She rushed into the museum’s kitchen and nearly collided
with Jenni, eliciting a squeak and a quick move to save coffee grounds from
spilling everywhere.

“Whoa. What’s the rush, honey?” Jenni asked with raised
brows.

“I can’t find it.”

“Find what?”

“My flag pin.”

Jenni nodded toward the kitchen table. “It’s over there.”

Relief made Celia’s legs nearly buckle. “Oh, thank God.” She
fastened the American flag pin to the lapel of her blue wool suit and
straightened it. “Can you imagine what they’d say if I didn’t have it on?”

This is nicely written,
and has an inviting voice. It’s a scene, and there is tension for the
character. But for me the tension revolved around something for which I had no
idea of the stakes if she fails. Will she be fired? Is she just neurotic about
this? I guess the story questions weren’t compelling enough for me.

This appears to be a
romance—later she meets a returned veteran next door. And there are revelations
of town secrets brewing that has the people she works for worried. I’d try to
get closer to that event—when the Board learns of the upcoming memoir by a town
author. I think this narrative starts too soon in the story and spends too much
time filling in background before getting to the good stuff. Keep at it, lots
of potential here. Notes:

September, 1943

Where was that gosh-darn flag pin? Celia frantically
rummaged through her jewelry box, already fearing the disapproving stares and
outright disdain of everyone around the table tonight if she showed up without
it. Wouldn’t that be a great way to start off the board meeting! Go for a stronger verb rather than using an adverb in “frantically
rummaged.” How about “ransacked?”

“Don’t panic, don’t panic,” Celia chanted, screwing in her
pearl earrings as she hurried downstairs. Surely the exciting news she had to
share with them would override any questions about her patriotism. But that was
wishful thinking. They’d zero in on her missing accessory like a Spitfire on a
Messerschmitt. Her earrings screw in? They’re not clip-on, which is what I remember my
mother using way back when?

She rushed into the museum’s kitchen and nearly
collided with Jenni, eliciting a squeak and a quick move to save coffee grounds
from spilling everywhere.

“Whoa. What’s the rush, honey?” Jenni asked with raised
brows. Another “did with” usage—in this case,
she used her raised eyebrows to ask the question. Suggest greater clarity with
something such as: Jenni raised her brows and said, “Whoa. What’s the rush,
honey?”

“I can’t find it.”

“Find what?”

“My flag pin.”

Jenni nodded toward the kitchen table. “It’s over there.”

Relief made Celia’s legs nearly buckle. “Oh, thank God.” She
fastened the American flag pin to the lapel of her blue wool suit and
straightened it. “Can you imagine what they’d say if I didn’t have it on?” While she’s clearly terrorized, it would be
a good idea to have some feeling for the consequences of not wearing the pin.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, 12-point type, etc.) there should be about 16 or 17 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page). Directions for submissions are below.

A word about the line-editing in these posts: it’s “one-pass” editing, and I don’t try to address everything, which is why I appreciate the comments from the FtQ tribe. In a paid edit, I go through each manuscript three times.

Storytelling Checklist

Before you rip into today’s submission, consider this list of 6 vital storytelling ingredients from my book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells. While it's not a requirement that all of these elements must be on the first page, they can be, and I think you have the best chance of hooking a reader if they are.

Evaluate the submission—and your own first page—in terms of whether or not it includes each of these ingredients, and how well it executes them. The one vital ingredient not listed is professional-caliber writing because that is a must for every page, a given.

Story questions

Tension (in the reader, not just the characters)

Voice

Clarity

Scene-setting

Character

Melissa has sent chapter 1 of her work in progress.

September, 1943

Where was that gosh-darn flag pin? Celia frantically
rummaged through her jewelry box, already fearing the disapproving stares and
outright disdain of everyone around the table tonight if she showed up without
it. Wouldn’t that be a great way to start off the board meeting!

“Don’t panic, don’t panic,” Celia chanted, screwing in her
pearl earrings as she hurried downstairs. Surely the exciting news she had to
share with them would override any questions about her patriotism. But that was
wishful thinking. They’d zero in on her missing accessory like a Spitfire on a
Messerschmitt.

She rushed into the museum’s kitchen and nearly collided
with Jenni, eliciting a squeak and a quick move to save coffee grounds from
spilling everywhere.

“Whoa. What’s the rush, honey?” Jenni asked with raised
brows.

“I can’t find it.”

“Find what?”

“My flag pin.”

Jenni nodded toward the kitchen table. “It’s over there.”

Relief made Celia’s legs nearly buckle. “Oh, thank God.” She
fastened the American flag pin to the lapel of her blue wool suit and
straightened it. “Can you imagine what they’d say if I didn’t have it on?”

This is nicely written,
and has an inviting voice. It’s a scene, and there is tension for the
character. But for me the tension revolved around something for which I had no
idea of the stakes if she fails. Will she be fired? Is she just neurotic about
this? I guess the story questions weren’t compelling enough for me.

This appears to be a
romance—later she meets a returned veteran next door. And there are revelations
of town secrets brewing that has the people she works for worried. I’d try to
get closer to that event—when the Board learns of the upcoming memoir by a town
author. I think this narrative starts too soon in the story and spends too much
time filling in background before getting to the good stuff. Keep at it, lots
of potential here. Notes:

September, 1943

Where was that gosh-darn flag pin? Celia frantically
rummaged through her jewelry box, already fearing the disapproving stares and
outright disdain of everyone around the table tonight if she showed up without
it. Wouldn’t that be a great way to start off the board meeting! Go for a stronger verb rather than using an adverb in “frantically
rummaged.” How about “ransacked?”

“Don’t panic, don’t panic,” Celia chanted, screwing in her
pearl earrings as she hurried downstairs. Surely the exciting news she had to
share with them would override any questions about her patriotism. But that was
wishful thinking. They’d zero in on her missing accessory like a Spitfire on a
Messerschmitt. Her earrings screw in? They’re not clip-on, which is what I remember my
mother using way back when?

She rushed into the museum’s kitchen and nearly
collided with Jenni, eliciting a squeak and a quick move to save coffee grounds
from spilling everywhere.

“Whoa. What’s the rush, honey?” Jenni asked with raised
brows. Another “did with” usage—in this case,
she used her raised eyebrows to ask the question. Suggest greater clarity with
something such as: Jenni raised her brows and said, “Whoa. What’s the rush,
honey?”

“I can’t find it.”

“Find what?”

“My flag pin.”

Jenni nodded toward the kitchen table. “It’s over there.”

Relief made Celia’s legs nearly buckle. “Oh, thank God.” She
fastened the American flag pin to the lapel of her blue wool suit and
straightened it. “Can you imagine what they’d say if I didn’t have it on?” While she’s clearly terrorized, it would be
a good idea to have some feeling for the consequences of not wearing the pin.